Christmas cards are usually the bane of my existence during the holidays. I obsess over getting the perfect photograph, which usually results in a battle of the wills in which everyone loses. Then I obsess over picking the perfect card and getting the best deal possible. Signing and addressing the cards gets added to my holiday task list and I inevitably forget I will need stamps.
This year though, I’m truly enjoying the process. MyPublisher’s holiday card collection is stunning. I played around with three different card designs and loved all of them. I mean, just look:
My cards arrived yesterday and I ADORE them. The paper quality is amazing and I’m so glad I chose the matte paper option. I love the extra class the texture brings to the card. The designs on the front and back of the card leave plenty of room for a hand-written note, and I couldn’t be happier with how the cards look and feel in my hands. Also? How adorable is the packaging? Ta Da! Love it.
Everything came wrapped in tissue paper and I felt like I was opening up an early Christmas gift. I actually can’t wait to sit down and hand-sign and address each card. MyPublisher made the whole process feel special – which is exactly what I am hoping for each holiday task to feel like this year.
You can snag photo cards at 30% off right now through December 3rd with the code BEMERRY. Go, people! Go!
The legal stuff: MyPublisher provided me with a $75 gift certificate to order cards. All opinions are my own. I really do love my cards. =)
Maybe it’s the mid-cycle hormones, or all the pictures of friends’ new babies, but I find myself craving that newborn smell and the way a teeny baby fits into the crook of my arm. I haven’t forgotten how hard those first few months were, and I adore this age – all the amazing milestones, the personality, the new experiences that happen between 6 and 12 months – but as No2′s first birthday quickly approaches, I find myself increasingly nostalgic for her first few days and weeks.
I’m committed to less stress this holiday season. Instead of filling up my calendar with a list of “shoulds” I’m choosing activities that will bring our family joy, and making the most out of each task. No more over-scheduling myself and then wondering why the holidays are exhausting.
We started our Less-Is-More holiday this weekend with Thanksgiving at my parents’ home. I contributed tubes of crescent rolls, a Sara Lee frozen pecan pie, and two adorable grandchildren. No stressful attempt at baking with one moody preschooler and one teething baby at my feet, and no equating my worth with how much food I brought along. We arrived when we could and let my parents and my brother enjoy the kids while we snuck downstairs to play pool. Dinner was whenever the turkey was done, and naps were whenever the kids got tired. We spent the rest of the day relaxing on the couch, watching football and playing cars with the kids. No expectations. No grand plans. No Black Friday shopping.
It was the best Thanksgiving I can remember since those of my childhood.
I hope your Thanksgiving was wonderful and full of family and love.
I’m linking up with Alison and Galit this week for Memories Captured. I love how they encourage me to stop and smell the roses. Even the bittersweet ones.
When did you become this little person? The one whose favorite food is grilled chicken and peas? The one who loses all her bones and slumps to the floor because the disappointment over the gated stairs has overtaken her entire being?
I held you last night upon your third wakening. I couldn’t bring myself to put you back in the crib and have you dream for all those hours away from me. It seems like only a moment ago we were one being. And now here you are, weeks, days away from turning one year old.
It has been an amazing eleven months, sweet Bean. You and I have accomplished so much together, learned so much from one another. You have given me the first year I always wanted, unmarred by postpartum depression’s sharp talons. And I have to admit I’m a little devastated it’s almost over. Not just sad or nostalgic. I watch you stand and wobble, try to put your socks on your toes, or color a little picture and as proud as I am of you, and as excited as I am to watch you experience your world, I mourn for the loss of the baby you were just the day before.
I want to sob, “Please don’t turn one. Please don’t leave me,” and yet I know that you are not mine. You came through me, but you are not mine to keep. And so I will stand here helpless to stop time. And I will try my best to let you grow.
I’m linking up with with Tracy, Galit , and Alison for Memories Captured today. They’ve asked us to honor our children – to take a moment and celebrate who they are and to be respectful of them when we write. I use this blog to share my own feeling about motherhood and my experience living with a mental illness, so I am always mindful of what my children might think when they read it many years from now. I want it to reflect how much I cherish them, but also how challenging it has been for me to become a parent and to balance my life with the life of this family. I hope they will take all the imperfections I share here and see their mother as more than just “mom,” instead a whole person with hopes, dreams, struggles, and bad days.
But when they read this post, (Hi, Doodlebug! Hi, Bean!) all I want them to see is how proud I am to be their mother. Because I am. Even on the hardest days and the longest nights, I am.
No1 turned four this past week. During her party, all the kids climbed into the giant-cardboard-box-turned-convertible and pretended to drive to Story Land. They all played so nicely together the whole party and No1 was in the middle of it all, being celebrated and lavished with the affection her bright personality brings to all of us. I love this picture. I love how she’s surrounded by her friends. I love the look of belonging I can see in her eyes. I hope that this is one birthday she will actually remember years from now, because it was incredible. She is incredible.
I’m knee-deep in stress of my own creation. The house is covered in projects and the floor is spattered with paint. The preschooler turns four tomorrow and I have a sneaky suspicion I’m keeping myself busy so as to not think about how big she’s gotten or how her smallest days are fading away.
I so rarely get any time alone with No1. Her sister is always just a moment away from needing me and I have one ear her direction at all times. It’s taken its toll on us both. But this morning, my husband took the baby with him on an errand and it felt like old times in the house. Just me and No1. She was her old self this morning. No competing for attention, no baby talk, no attitude. We ate lunch together and both enjoyed the lack of interruptions. We searched for bugs in the house and had a lady bug funeral. And she did my hair.
Oh, how I miss this kind of time with her.
I’m linking up with Memories Captured this week!
This is pretty much what my days look like.
If I turn my back for a moment,
the baby has already reached the door,
and the preschooler is a blur.
I know I will miss these days,
so I’m trying not to wish them away.
I am so very tired.